A Blade in Chorrol
by Wolfenrahd
Summary: When Rolan Renderes, a Redguard from Chorrol, is cast out into the world, he must learn to survive the in the world of Cyrodiil.
1. Chapter 1 Two Redguards and a Newborn

They knew they were being followed. They knew they were being hunted by gold-hungry mercenaries. They knew they would have to leave their desert homeland of Hammerfell. They left their home, their possessions, their friends and family. Their old life. Just two Redguards. Two Redguards with barely enough food to support one person, extremely ragged and dirty clothes, and money that would make a beggar seem lucky. The Redguards were always on the run; whenever they stopped, their pursuers always seemed to catch up. They had been heading east for a long while. They were tired, and they didn't know if they could last much longer.

They began considering the option of just giving up, when they had finally reached the Hammerfell/Cyrodiil border. They stopped to take a rest, deciding that they would take turns keeping watch. They hid among the vegetation and rested for as much as they could. Which wasn't very long. In the middle of the night, the Redguard keeping guard began to hear noises. "...of course it's worth it. We are going to get paid big time for this." The Redguard strained his ear to hear as the voices continued their rambling. "Yeah, I know that. But to go through all of this trouble? We don't even know where they are for sure. They could be halfway to Morrowind for all we know." "Well, we last saw them headed east. They have been going east for a while now. It should be a matter of time before we catch them. And besides, we-" _Crack!_ The Redguard had been trying to listen to the conversation for so long that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. He had accidentally laid his hand on a stick and broke it, alarming the men. "What was that? It sounded like it came from over there." The man walked toward their hiding spot and peered his eyes through the thick clumps of leaves, vaguely spotting two figures hustled on the ground. "Over here!" cried out the man, drawing out his sword. "Wake up!" said the Redguard to his companion, who had an air of confusion about her as she got to her feet. "Run!" he said, pushing her out of the hiding spot and running alongside her, evading the swings of the mercenaries. The pair tripped and fell to the ground. It became clear that they wouldn't be able to out run them, leaving only one option. To fight. The man of the two person group got up and raised his fists, looking at the mercenaries with a hard, furious stare that would make a bear feel fear. He threw his fist at the man in the front, knocking him hard in the chest. The mercenary didn't expect the amount of force put into the punch, catching him of guard. Taking advantage of this, the male Redguard began issuing quick jabs at the man, swiftly taking him down. He picked up the sword from the man's unconscious grip, and pointed it at the rest of them. "Who's next?" he asked. This was in such a fierce and bold tone that it made the mercenaries back off. All except for one, who lunged forward and swinged his blade at the Redguard's chest. He he bit back a howl of pain and disarmed his attacker. He knocked the back of his handle against his head, the man falling to the ground unconscious. The rest stepped forward ready to fight, but then hesitated at the site of their companion, and fled back in the direction they came.

The other Redguard came running towards the injured man. "Huntheir, your hurt!" she cried out into the black night. "It's okay Minera, it is only a minor wound." reassured Hutheir to his companion. But even as he tried to stand, pain shot threw his body, and he collapsed on the soft, dirt ground. "Huntheir! Oh no, we need to get help..." Minera threw one of Huntheir's arm over her shoulder to help as support. A voice pierced through the darkness, one that was cold as Skyrim, and dark as night. "You don't think I'd let you escape, do you?" An arrow flew through air, silently and swiftly striking into the arm of Hunthier. "No! yelled Minera. She quickly put herself between him and the line of fire. Two more arrows came forth, piercing her in the back. They both fell on the ground, unconscious. Thinking the job was, the men came forward to collect their prize when the sound of a ferocious bark broke the midnight silence. A man came forth with a dog by his side. He drew the string of his bow and took out one of the men. Man after man fell, and they fled. One remained, but instead of firing himself, he smiled and turned the other way, convinced the Redguards were dead.

At the light of day, all was well in Chorrol. The sun shined bright, the vegetation bloomed, and most of the citizen's were joyful. Today, even the beggars were more joyous then usual; beggars and wealthy alike shared this feeling. One man from the city was walking along the main path, thinking about how nothing could ruin this feeling. Well, that was before he saw two Redguards lying in the grass of course. A man stood over them. "A little help, please?" he asked. He rushed into Chorrol to call for help. People came immediately and helped the pair to the chapel. Various healers from within the chapel began to fix the wounds upon Huntheir. Hunthier wounds gave him trouble, but he awoke healthy and safe. His sword arm would have trouble from now on though. Minera on the other hand suffered fatal wounds. The arrows went in to far. "Your lucky the arrows didn't harm your child," said a healer. On that day Minera would bring a new life into the world, but another would be taken in the process.


	2. Chapter 2 Rolan in Chorrol

Hunthier named the child Roland, after his great grandfather. Roland's first few years in Chorrol were full and promising. Shortly after he was born, his father was finally able to afford a home. After being nursed in the Chapel, he stayed in Chorrol with his father. While growing up, he also developed an interest for weapons and fighting. His favorite weapon by all was the longsword sword. His father himself was a swordsman, and would often go on special missions with the Fighter's Guild. When Rolan turned two, his father allowed him to go in the Fighter's Guild, as long as he, or an adult from the Guild accompanied him. He often marveled at the swords on display, and sometimes asked Hunthier for one. A few days before his forth birthday, Rolan was looking at the weapons with his father. He bent down on his level and began to speak. "Son," Rolan turned to look at his father. "When I was your age, my father had given me my first sword. I loved that sword, and I carried it everywhere I went. My father also told me about my responsibilities. That I should never hurt the innocent, and use it for the right causes." He pulled out a wooden sword, and handed it to Rolan. "Practice with this for now, Rolan." Rolan gratefully took the fine carved sword in his hands. "Now I know that this is not a real sword, but I want to see how responsible you are with it at first, okay?" "Yes dad." replies Rolan at once. From that day forward, he practiced almost everyday with that sword, and his skill increased almost as his affinity towards swords. Almost two years had passed, when his father came up to him once again while Rolan was practicing. Roland had shown amazing skill for a child his age. "Remember when I told you that my father told me to never hurt an innocent and use my blade for the right causes?" "Yeah," said Rolan. "Well, will you do the same?" he asked, holding out an iron short sword. Rolan's eyes lit up as he took the sword, admiring it. "Yes, thank you!" he said, and he dropped the wooden blade, preceding to practice with the best gift he had ever gotten.

About a month later from then, rumors were starting to spread. They said that there were mercenaries from Hammerfell stationed not to far from the Chorrol. The mercenaries had a list of people that they were hunting down. Soon, the word reached Huntheir. He knew that he would have to leave, but he did not want to drag Rolan into this. Then one day, the mercenaries came to Chorrol. They said that they were looking for someone, and that they would be back to search. A man sent by the Countess came down to speak with their leader. "By order of the Countess, you must leave Chorrol at once." said the man. The leader of the mercenaries slowly put his hand down near his sword. When the man saw this, he cowered, thinking that he was about to be slaughtered. But instead of grabbing his weapon, the leader just pulled a sack out of his pocket that jingled with the sound of gold. A huge wave of relief washed over the man. The leader handed him the sack of gold. "I think we could come to an arrangement, can we?" he said. The man fell for the bribe, and walked back along to the castle, thinking about what story to make up to the Countess to cover the mercenaries' arrival. Huntheir was watching the whole scene. It was at this moment that they knew what they would have to do.

"Rolan, I need to talk to you." said Rolan's father in his room. "What is it dad?" asked Rolan, curiosity plaguing his face. "If I am ever gone, you must stay strong." "What do you mean, dad?" "Don't let your feelings overwhelm you." "Dad?" "And if your ever alone, and you struggle to survive, you must have the will and the courage to move forward." "But dad," "There will be a day when we won't be here, son." "Are you leaving?" Silence filled the room. Rolan looked as if he was on the verge of crying. His father's looked as if he was doubting himself. In what was one minute, felt like one day to Rolan. Finally, his father was able to muster up the will to give his answer. "Yes." Tears began to swell up in Rolan's eyes. "Where are you going dad?" " We have to go somewhere far away." "Can I come with you?" "No, i'm sorry." Hunthier knelt down beside Rolan, resting his hand on his back. "Don't worry, Rolan. I'll come back for you. I promise." Then she walked forward and sat beside Rolan. Don't worry, Rolan. Everything is going to be okay." Although he tried, he couldn't utter out any words. It was almost as if they understood. They nodded, than left. An empty feeling captured Rolan. For the first time in his life, he was alone.


	3. Chapter 3 Training

**Chapter 3: Training**

* * *

Five year old Rolan was in his fighting position, holding up his short sword. Yukan Morello, the man who had taken himm in all that time ago, had agreed to train him a little when he had grown a bit. "Your surprisingly good for your age." said Yukan, blocking all of Rolan's hits. Rolan furiously swung his blade, taking every opportunity to thrust and strike. When it finally seemed like there was an opening, he thrust his blade towards his goal, only to have it knocked out of his hand by his opponent. He fell backwards and plopped on the ground. Yukan's hand extended out to Rolan, who grabbed it with haste. "Don't ever let your guard down, Rolan." Yukan settled down and began to eat the lunch he had made previously, along with Rolan. Everyday they trained, Yukan wanting to pass his skills on to another, and Rolan wanting to acheive mastery. His life would be like this for a while now, and one day, he knew, he would get stronger, and be the strongest of all.

 **This is all I have for now. I will upload the full chapter soon. And if you want to read more, don't worry, there will be a lot more chapters!**


End file.
